Here are glimpses of some of the victims of the Sept. 11 attack on the World Trade Center.

SUSAN L. BLAIR

Big Laugh, Big Heart

Susan L. Blair had a work-stopping, what's-that-noise kind of laugh. Wherever she has worked, co-workers have asked her to pipe down. ''It was high-pitched and loud,'' said her sister Leslie Blair.

If she was telling a joke, forget it. The laugh and a joke were just too much because she was funny. For example, the day before the World Trade Center attack, she interviewed a prospective hire for Aon, where she was a team leader. ''She commented to a co-worker that the person had a fear of heights,'' Leslie Blair said. ''She said to the co-worker, 'I'm thinking to myself that we're on the 92nd floor of the World Trade Center; you might want to rethink this job.' ''

Though some of her jokes were laced with sarcasm, they were not aimed as darts, Ms. Blair's sister said.

''I would ask her why she cared whether that guy smiled and she would say, 'I just do.' She thought life was too short to go around with our shields up.''

BOJAN KOSTIC

All Set for Citizenship

It was Grand Army Plaza, in front of the Plaza Hotel, that hooked Bojan Kostic on New York. He had grown up in Belgrade in Yugoslavia, and moved to Iowa in the mid-1980's for college. During his first semester, on a school trip to New York, he stepped off the bus in Grand Army Plaza.

''That's when he decided to move here,'' said his fiance, Susanna Ferm. ''He loved it -- the energy, the excitement, everything about the city.''

He soon dropped out of school and took a job painting houses in Connecticut, and he eventually enrolled in Baruch College. That was typical of Bo, as people called him. He was straightforward, honest and reliable. He knew what he wanted.

An example: on his first date with Ms. Ferm, in 1998, he asked her to move in with him. ''I held off for three weeks,'' she said.

He liked to arrive at his office at Cantor Fitzgerald by 6 a.m. In early September, Mr. Kostic, 34, went home to his West Side apartment each day and eagerly sorted through the mail, looking for the letter telling him that he was eligible to become a United States citizen. On the night of Sept. 10, Ms. Ferm quizzed him for his citizenship test, asking him to name the original 13 states. ''He got them all,'' she said. ''He was ready.''

JOHN RESTA

and SYLVIA SAN PIO RESTA

A Fancy Proposal

The marriage proposal was famous in the Resta family. John Resta already had a reputation as a hopeless romantic, relatives said, but on this one he outdid even himself.

Mr. Resta and his wife, Sylvia SanPio Resta, had traveled to Florida several times, and there she found a seafood restaurant that she adored. So on the day he was to propose, he took the day off work. He had a meal -- lobster and other dishes -- and menus flown into New York City from the restaurant. He rented a tuxedo, a top hat and a cane, and spent the day setting up their apartment in Bayside, Queens, with candles, a fancy tablecloth and flowers.

Needless to say, the answer was yes, and they were married in the summer of 2000. When the two -- both traders for Carr Futures -- were killed in the Sept. 11 terrorist attack, she was seven months pregnant with their first child.

Mr. Resta, 40, adored children, said his sister Chris Mazzeo, and he was obsessed with his wife's pregnancy, voraciously reading every childbirth book he could get his hands on and doting on her constantly. Mr. Resta's cousin Kenneth Bynoe said that as soon as Mr. Resta met Ms. SanPio Resta, 26, he was so smitten that he could not stop talking about her, especially about her habit of reading cookbooks on the train, from cover to cover, as if they were novels.

Ms. SanPio Resta was artistic, yet she had a mind for numbers, said her sister Martiza Mure. In college, she majored in both mathematics and ceramics, and she had recently inspired her husband to take up oil painting.

Ms. Mazzeo said: ''My brother was an angel on earth. Now, he's an angel in heaven. Now he has wings.''

Ms. SanPio Resta's sisters, who were planning her baby shower when she was killed, said that when they planned her memorial service, they chose the theme song ''In the Arms of an Angel.''

JOSHUA VITALE

Love With No Regrets

Joshua Vitale and Ina Weintraub had been best friends since they were seventh graders in Syosset, on Long Island. Two years ago, when they were 26, Mr. Vitale made a confession as they left the movies. ''He said he'd been in love with me for many years and that if he didn't tell me this now he would always regret it,'' Ms. Weintraub said. ''I was so blown away I didn't talk to him for three months.''

When the dust settled, the couple's life together quickly fell into place. They got engaged and moved into an apartment in Great Neck, N.Y. Mr. Vitale, who had been a wanderer, a party animal and something of a lost soul for much of his 20's, got a job at Cantor Fitzgerald's trading desk.

''Once we got together it was like we were shooting for the stars,'' Ms. Weintraub said. ''We were so happy.''

Two days before Sept. 11, the couple tried to get tickets to the United States Open tennis tournament, without success. ''Josh said: 'Forget the Open. Why don't we go to the zoo?' '' Ms. Weintraub said. The couple communed with the gorillas at the Bronx Zoo, and then Mr. Vitale, his wandering instincts intact, found a path where they had a picnic together. ''There was nothing left unsaid between us,'' Ms. Weintraub said. ''He knew how much I loved him and I will always know how much he loved me.''

JANE ELLEN BAESZLER

Staten Island Tapestry

Jane Ellen Baeszler grew up in the shadow of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge in the Randall Manor neighborhood in Staten Island. She went to Catholic schools and earned an associate's degree in business from the College of Staten Island. She never left Randall Manor, even after she got a job as a municipal bond broker at Cantor Fitzgerald.

Her mother, Rita, lived close by and said Ms. Baeszler was attentive to her nephew, Patrick, 10, and nieces, Annie-Laurie, 13, and Molly, 12, who were the perfect age to share secrets with an aunt that they would not tell their mother.

Ms. Baeszler, 43, relaxed by doing needlepoint. She had perfected it. She gave a needlepoint tapestry of a horse's head to a childhood friend, who is an equestrian. She made a cocoa pot for an aunt who collects them. She liked Americana. She made a tapestry of a Harper's Bazaar cover, with a woman in a long coat with a fur collar reminiscent of the Roaring 20's. On Sept. 10, she attended a class to work on a tapestry of a teapot for her sister-in-law's 40th birthday on Oct. 10.

STEVEN JACOBSON

A Transmitter Marvel

He worked up top. He liked it up there, with his transmitter.

Steven Jacobson was an engineer for WPIX-TV and worked in a room on the 110th floor of 1 World Trade Center, usually by himself, tending to the station's transmitter.

Mr. Jacobson, 53, had a deep fidelity to that transmitter. He cared for it like a sick baby the occasional time it would ''dump'' and take the station off the air. Once he used his shoelaces to get it going.

During the 1993 trade center bombing, he stayed until midnight, to make sure the transmitter operated properly once power was restored. When the bomb exploded, Victor Arnone, a WPIX maintenance engineer and a close friend, went to the concourse to get lunch for him. He called Mr. Jacobson and yelled: ''Steve! Explosion! Smoke! People are running out!'' Mr. Jacobson said, ''Does this mean I don't get my egg roll?''

Mr. Jacobson had a dry humor. It was a routine for him to invite Jewish friends to lunch at his Manhattan home on Yom Kippur, when, of course, they were fasting. He loved to prowl through ham radio flea markets. Unfailingly, he would ask a vendor, ''Do you have a used logbook and a big eraser?'' He had a habit of not using turn signals when he drove. When questioned, he would respond, ''It's nobody's business which way I'm turning.''

JORGE VELAZQUEZ

Feeding the Hungry

Jorge Velazquez was always looking for one more hungry soul to feed.

This was in the mid-1990's. Mr. Velazquez, a deeply religious man from Puerto Rico, had founded a program to feed the homeless at his Seventh-day Adventist church, and commuting home to Spanish Harlem from a shipping job in a shoulder-pad factory, he would keep an eye out for the down and out, recalled his longtime friend Anthony Salcedo.

Mr. Velazquez and his wife, Consuelo, would cook big pots of rice and beans and stew, and on Saturdays, they would pile their four kids into the car, make the rounds of some of Manhattan's saddest spots and ladle out hot dinners. ''I'd ask him where he found these people and he'd say, 'Coming home from work I saw someone walking around and I got out of my car and followed them to where they were,' '' Mr. Salcedo said. ''He was a very determined man.''

Determined to make things better for his family, Mr. Velazquez, 47, landed a job as a security guard for Morgan Stanley Dean Witter in the trade center in 1999, and he quickly worked his way up to security specialist. He had just bought a house in Passaic, N.J., and was moonlighting as a security guard to help pay for it. Now his family members are starting a program to feed the homeless at their local church.

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Organizing surprise parties was William Lum Jr.'s specialty. For the 60th birthday of his mother, Grace Lum, for instance, he surprised her with a big dinner party at Windows on the World, the restaurant at the top of the north tower of the trade center. ''It was exhilarating,'' remembers his father, William Sr. ''The view was just incredible.''

Mr. Lum wanted to introduce the city to his septuagenarian parents, who are both of Chinese descent. ''Whenever he got a chance, he would call us and take us to the nice restaurants, Broadway shows and Central Park,'' Mrs. Lum said. His parents live at his childhood home in Rockland County, and William Jr., 45, had an apartment on the Upper West Side.

Normally at this time of the year, he would start making plans to take his parents to Rockefeller Center to window-shop and see the big tree. ''There are times when I walk around and I see things that remind me of Billy,'' William Sr. said. ''My eyes would be filled with tears.''

And the World Trade Center, where Mr. Lum worked for Marsh & McLennan, was his favorite building in the city -- every time friends would visit from out of town, he would take them to the observation deck.

The number is 18416. That is the number that Rob Peraza was to wear while competing in the New York City Marathon next week. It was to have been his first marathon, and family members say that his diligent long-distance training -- often accompanied by his dog, Otis, through Central Park -- spoke to the determination and future plans of a man only 30 years old.

This year seemed to bring a certain maturity to Mr. Peraza, who had been living the 20-something life on the Upper West Side. His job as a bond trader with Cantor Fitzgerald was going well. His relationship with Megan Cressy, his girlfriend of nine months, was getting serious. And his mind, more accustomed to anticipating hits on a rugby field, was focused on completing that marathon. ''A lot of things were falling in place for Rob,'' said his younger brother, Neil Peraza. ''He was just starting to, I think, come into his own as a person.''

Mr. Peraza's parents live in Ohio, his sister lives in North Carolina and his brother lives in Florida. But they are still planning to attend the marathon, and to see Rob's uncle from Virginia, Steve Comber, cross the finish line -- wearing No. 18416.

PETE CARROLL

A Painter Who Cared

They called him Pete the Painter. Pete Carroll was really a firefighter, but he painted apartments to make ends meet. He walked into ToniAnn's life eight years ago and laid two coats of beige paint.

He had 19 years in the Fire Department. One more, and they were off to retire in California. They depended on each other, but last January, Ms. Carroll came to depend on him in very profound ways. She fell ill with a neurological disorder with no cure. It is a rapid, ravaging affliction that attacks the soft tissues.

Mr. Carroll, 42, started to cook for his wife. He carried her to bed. Sometimes he washed her back. This summer, on the hottest day of the year, he came home to Staten Island from the Squad 1 firehouse in Brooklyn to see her in the backyard, frozen in a chair in the blazing sun. He saw that and wept. ''I had a beautiful fireman to rescue me,'' Ms. Carroll said. ''Now I don't want to move at all.''

In a contorted way, Mr. Carroll's wife is one of the lucky survivors. She has his ashes and his wedding band.

DONALD H. GREGORY

A Family Man's Gifts

Amanda Gregory had her father's sense of commitment. Her sister, Sara, had his creativity. And their brother, James, had his love of sports.

Donald H. Gregory, 62, gave many gifts to his children, one of which was loving their mother. He kissed her at the start and end of each day. ''He was just a man of quiet faith,'' said his wife, Maureen. ''He had a generosity of spirit that extended to all in our family. Most importantly, he taught to believe in yourself.'' He believed in Amanda, 20, who wants to work for NASA; Sara, 19, who loves art; and James, 14, who plays soccer, basketball and baseball with a passion.

Since the trade center fell with him in the 104th-floor office of Cantor Fitzgerald, in the north tower, people have sent notes to Mr. Gregory's family in Ramsey, N.J.

''Because I was not with him during the day, I didn't know the extent to which he raved about the children,'' his wife said. ''That is the essence of a family man to me.''

DOUGLAS B. GURIAN

Simple Things Matter

Douglas B. Gurian, 38, found pleasure in simple things like two-inch thick steaks, the ocean, his two young children. He would call his friends out of the blue, put the receiver up to the stereo speaker, say, ''Listen to this riff, man,'' and just as abruptly hang up. He went to West Point, but he was anything but straight-laced.

In the summers, when he took his family to Fire Island, Mr. Gurian would take his shoes off before they reached the shore and not put them on again for days. Each morning started with a jump into the ocean. ''He was the most quirky, fun-loving guy,'' said Susan Gurian, his wife of almost 10 years.

Mr. Gurian worked at Radianz, a financial services technology company. On the morning of Sept. 11, he was at Windows on the World, at a technology conference.

Mr. Gurian loved his children -- Tyler, 7, and Eva, 4 -- most of all, his wife said. Eva is too young to understand what happened to her dad, but Tyler told his mom, ''I just don't feel I'll be happy again.''

BERNARD FAVUZZA

Model Trains a Passion

Each time his wife, Vincenza, got pregnant, Dominick Favuzza would buy a Lionel train set: engine, box cars, caboose and tracks. This was postwar New York in the 1950's.

He did this a month before Bernard's birth. And he did it before his daughters, Janice and Anna, were born. Around Christmas, the shiny trains would clack around the tree.

Bernard Favuzza, who was 52 on Sept. 11, had taken to the hobby. He built a miniature model of Ridgewood, Queens, in his house in Suffern, N.Y. -- with a train that whistled through his childhood neighborhood complete with Dietz Coal.

And he took over his dad's tradition of buying the trains for those soon to be born. He bought them for his nephew Kevin, 12, and his grandson Dominick, who is 2 today.

''They were relaxing,'' Anna Favuzza said of her brother's train hobby. ''It's stressful, right? The market. Wall Street. This was a way for him to unwind.''

Mr. Favuzza was at Cantor Fitzgerald, above where one of the planes went in. Now his daughters, Donna Posta, 32, and Laura Favuzza, 24, will take care of his trains.

GARTH E. FEENEY

An Engineer's Shortcut

Earning an engineering degree from the University of Pennsylvania typically takes five years. But it was not the fact that Garth E. Feeney did it in four years while also majoring in business. It was everything else he did at the same time that amazed his family.

Mr. Feeney, 28, who was at a conference at Windows on the World on Sept. 11, tutored an illiterate adult, established a program for poor children, worked for campus security, was a dorm counselor, a representative on the university's board of trustees and worked for Habitat for Humanity. ''He was one of these people who did everything and anything,'' said his mother, Judy Feeney.

Even after he moved to New York, where he was director of corporate development for Data Synapse in Manhattan, he kept up the pace of activities. He was a rock climber, a scuba diver, a kayaker and an avid in-line skater. He loved gliding through Central Park whenever he got the chance.

One thing his parents did not know, until they heard tales from friends at his memorial service, was that Mr. Feeney was exceptionally frugal. Even as he earned a decent income, he refused to take a taxi anywhere -- not even to the airport -- and loved using coupons, including ones for the fast-food spot Subway, where he would buy one sandwich (lunch) and get one free (dinner). ''We weren't aware that he was quite that economical,'' his mother said.

The Confirmed Dead

Following are the names of the people most recently confirmed to have died in the World Trade Center disaster, according to the New York City medical examiner's office, which said the victims' families had been notified.